Sheer Petals
by The Oddball Storyteller
Summary: Tears can drown you in the formidable dark. Wait. A new rose sprouts... King Alistair X Queen Cousland


**Author's Note:** I couldn't decide if I wanted it to be romantic/humorous or dark... This is the result. Hope you enjoy. Dragon Age: Origins belongs to BioWare.

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_Sheer Petals_

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"Do you remember?" he asked, gaining her attention. There was a question in her big, brown eyes. He lifted his hand, holding a red, red rose in front of her face. She blinked, surprised. Her smile was slow in coming.

"I remember," she told him, meeting his gaze once more. She reached up and he allowed her to take the flower. She inhaled its scent, taking it deep into her lungs. Her smile widened. "You were so shy back then!" She giggled.

"Don't remind me," he said, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I was a babbling fool when I was around you." He looked back up at her to see her eyes sparkling. Clearly, she found the whole thing amusing.

"I thought it was adorable," she told him, patting his cheek.

"You know," he started, "I should be a little insulted. I'm a man; I'm not supposed to be 'adorable'."

"I find you to be," she said with a nod. "The reason you are not insulted," she continued, "is because you know that I also find you to be strong, honorable - respectable."

"I knew that?" His smile returned when she gave him a_ look_. "What? Is it so wrong to want to hear my wife say those things at times?" He laughed a little.

"I suppose not." It was her turn to sigh. She leaned closer to him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "There are no words that I could use to properly describe you or how I feel for you, Alistair." She sounded so sad, so distant. He hadn't meant for this to happen. "You must know that you are my everything," she murmured, her mouth close to his ear now.

Heat coiled low in his stomach and then pooled lower... He closed his eyes, cleared his throat. "You don't need to tell me that, Wren. I was only teasing." _For the most part._

She hummed softly, nuzzling his neck. Her tongue flicked out to taste his skin. He shuddered. "We couldn't possibly, not here," he whispered frantically. The garden was an open space and anyone could walk by and see!

"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, but he could hear that wicked smile in her voice. He leaned his head against hers, taking one of her hands in his - the one that still held the rose. She laced their fingers. He marveled at her softness. He remembered her skin being rough, callused due to their dark adventure - that seemed a distant memory now.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He still thought about it. Not only that, he knew that _she_ was plagued by nightmares. It broke his heart, really. He'd hold her to him, whisper into her ear until her body stopped shaking, until her senseless murmurs ceased.

He stroked her skin with his thumb. "You're my everything, too, you know?"

She laughed softly and then sobered quickly. "I know it. It's in the way you look at me, in the way you speak to me, and it's definitely in the way you touch me..."

"Your skin is as soft as these rose petals now," he said absently, staring down at their laced fingers, at his thumb as it caressed hers.

"I haven't noticed," she said. "I suppose I didn't think too much of it. My mind has been...elsewhere." He moved his head to look at her; she looked like she'd just given something away, something that she hadn't meant to.

"Is something troubling you?" he asked, his concern evident. He ignored the hand that immediately went into his tawny hair, something she always did when trying to soothe him.

She nodded a little with a sigh. She took the rose and his hand in both of hers. She placed a kiss in the middle of his palm. When she looked back up at him, he reached up with his free hand, stroking her long, chocolate colored hair. She didn't say anything for a long moment.

"You can tell me," he said. "You can tell me anything."

"I know," she said hastily. "I shouldn't have kept it from you to begin with. If I'm right, I wouldn't have been able to hide it for very much longer, anyway." Now his gaze narrowed; she'd been keeping secrets for a while now?

Still, she had trouble telling him. She bit into her bottom lip mercilessly. He could tell that the gears in her head were working as she struggled to come up with the right words.

"Three months ago," she started, "I noticed something, a pretty good indicator, really. Alistair, I believe that I am with child."

At first, he didn't know what to say. He realized that she was staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He could tell that she was expecting anger. He could even tell that she expected him to put distance between them. Her big eyes were sad and she offered him an apologetic smile.

"Why would you hide such a thing from me?"

"I do not want to be wrong about this," she said. "That would crush both of us."

"That is true," he said with a nod. "Is that what has been bothering you?"

"There is more. It is a miracle for Grey Wardens to even conceive a child. I have heard of mothers losing their children before they are even born. I do not want that to happen to us." Her grip on his hand tightened as her fear quickly mounted. He could see the panic in her expressive eyes, the need for comfort, for reassurance.

Her tears spilled over her face before she could even think to try and blink them away. Humiliated, she tried to wipe at them. He took her wrist in a gentle but firm grip, lowering her hand and leaning in close, touching his lips to her trembling ones. He took the rose from her other hand, running the silky petals down the length of her face.

She sniffed a little. "Alistair-"

"You have nothing to fear, my darling wife."

"How can you say that?" She shook her head, but she seemed to be calming down some. He dragged her to him, holding her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes with a tired sigh.

He didn't want to have to tell her an untruth of any sort, so he had to believe it himself when he said, "Nothing is going to happen to our child."

"You sound so sure," she murmured.

"I am sure. I have _faith_. The child will live."

She snorted at that. "You may be king, but even if you decree it, nature will have its way no matter what."

"Wren, if you are carrying my child inside you," he started, slipping his hand between them to let it rest on her rounded stomach, "you are not helping our odds with these negative thoughts. How can this child live if you've already given up on it?"

She gasped, pulling her head away to look at him. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She started crying again. Her tears tore at him like nothing else could. He hated this. "I haven't given up," she said suddenly, shaking her head. "But that is something that stays in my mind always: what if we have this child, we wait for him, prepare for him and then...it's all for naught? He was gone before he truly got to live?"

He couldn't allow himself to give in. She certainly believed that the taint could take their child away, even after conception. This wasn't something that he'd be able to fix in a day, but he'd do everything in his power to help ease her fears.

For a long time, they just sat there. He ran his hands over her hair, her arms, her back... He felt the tension drain out of her slowly. At least he could do this much.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, "for telling me this. Holding all of this in must have taken a toll on you." He hugged her to him again, listened to her soft breathing. "You know that I'm here for you, that you can tell me anything, at any time. You are the most important thing in my life."

She nodded against his shoulder. "I feel a little better now, actually."

"You heart was, and still is, heavy. Your thoughts cause you distress." He shook his head and then something else came to him. "You let me believe that your nightmares were caused by the Blight... Was that even true? Was this the real reason that your sleep was so disturbed?"

"It was a little of both," she admitted. "I did not lie to you."

"You just didn't tell me the whole truth," he grumbled. He couldn't really be angry with her, though. He had no desire to be. Right now, he just wanted to hold her, to kiss her all over, to reassure her and take care of her when she had never really needed him to do that before.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I don't need or want an apology from you. I understand why you kept it from me; you wanted to spare me any pain." The rose fell from his fingers, forgotten. He placed a hand on either side of her face and made her look at him. "You have to understand that if something threatens your health or happiness," he paused before saying, "I will do whatever I have to in order to make it better."

She looked up at him and loved how he stared at her adoringly, with such tenderness. Her chest felt tight, as if someone had taken her heart in a death grip. He watched as more tears formed in her eyes. She blinked hard to keep them at bay. To distract her, he leaned in and took possession of her mouth with his own.

She was aware of one thing at that moment: as great as love was, it was painful. When you realized that the things you never knew you wanted could be ripped away from you so easily, it was heart-wrenching. She wanted her child. _Needed_ him to live more than anything. She was already in love with the very thought of him. She could imagine a mess of tawny hair and dark, intelligent eyes. She could envision a big, toothless grin and tiny hands reaching up, seeking...warmth. Love. Acceptance. _Life_.

_Maker help her_...

Her eyes and nose burned with more restrained tears. That image gave her something to hold onto for a while. She would need more help, but Alistair was right. Her child would have no chance if she continued as she was. She took a deep breath, steadied herself all over again. "You're right," she told him, meeting his eye, "about everything." Her gaze hardened and he could see her determination.

Alistair allowed himself to smile. This was his woman: strong, capable of facing any challenge head-on. They could do this. Unable to help himself, he wrapped her up in the safety of his arms, placing kisses in her hair. She seemed to melt into him, her body always accepting of his much harder one.

"What do you say we head in for some tea?"

"You know how I despise tea," she grumbled. "I only drink it because it is customary."

He laughed a little. "I know. You're very-"

"Besides," she started, managing to wiggle out of his hold to pick up the rose beside her, "I have a need for my king." She climbed to her feet and started walking away, confusing him. "In my bedchamber," she clarified before she started running for the doors of the castle. When she glanced back, he was already sprinting after her. She laughed.

For now, she would not worry about anything. When there was a real reason to be concerned, that's when she would allow herself to think about the issues. Or, at least, that's what she kept telling herself...

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**Done! **This did not capture Alistair's charming sense of humor, no. - _Bad, Odd!_ Yes, I know... Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
